


Hide and Seek

by Doctor_Discord



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Blood, Blood and Injury, Kidnapping, Mind Games, Stalking, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:20:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24040465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doctor_Discord/pseuds/Doctor_Discord
Summary: The Author is somehow back in the manor, and he sets his eyes on the sweetest ego of them all.
Comments: 21
Kudos: 45





	Hide and Seek

No one knew how the Author showed up.

For all intents and purposes, he was _dead_. He was _very_ dead, for over _six years_. The Host was testament to prove that.

But here he was.

In the manor.

He seemed _fascinated_ by the sheer _volume_ of egos that now lived in the manor. In his time, before he’d ripped out his eyes, it’d just been Dr. Iplier, King, Wilford, Dark, and the Jims. And now, there was almost _triple_ that amount of people in the manor. The Author prowled the halls, golden eyes glistening as he studied every single ego in the manor. He was _predatory_ , _hungry,_ and Dark could do _nothing_ about it.

Because whatever the Author had done to show up in the current time didn’t let him leave the manor.

They were well and truly _stuck_ with him, till they found a way to kick him back to his own time.

They had to move fast.

Because the Author had stopped stalking his prey.

And he’d _pounced_.

* * *

Eric sprinted through the library, the cavernous maze that was the basement of the manor. It was the middle of the night. He’d just _woken up_ there, in the eye of the library, curled up under the Host’s desk. There’d been a note lying next to him.

All it had said was ‘ _ **Hide**_ ’.

Eric had immediately began sprinting back for the door, the _only_ exit from the library. Which was where he was now, sprinting up the steps, breathing heavily. He didn’t know what was happening. He’d heard the horror stories about the Author, from King, the Jims, Dr. Iplier. The Host refused to talk about him. The second the Author appeared in the manor, the Host had locked himself in his room, and had yet to come back out, no matter what Dr. Iplier or any of the others did.

Eric didn’t want to get caught in his games.

Breathing heavily, the _horrible_ feeling like he was being _watched_ making his skin crawl, he reached for the door handle, desperate to _get out_. But the second he touch it, _pain_ coursed up his arm, and a force like a shockwave pushed him back, sending him tumbling back down the stairs. He landed in a sobbing heap at the base, nose bleeding, and shaking.

_He couldn’t get out._

The Author wouldn’t let him.

And then the singing started.

“Ding dong, here I come to find you, hurry up and run! Let’s play a little game and have fun…”

The Author’s voice echoed across the entire library, impossible to pinpoint, and Eric couldn’t help the terrified sob. He didn’t want to move, it _hurt_ to move, but he didn’t want to find out what would happen if the Author found him. So, he picked himself up off the floor, and headed back into the maze, tears and blood streaming down his face.

The library was _massive_. It felt like it stretched on for miles as Eric slunk through the twisting shelves. Six years’ worth of the Host’s visions, _thousands_ upon _thousands_ upon _thousands_ of handbound books, _hundreds_ of visions per book. Not to mention the actual novels and stories the Host wrote that Eric knew occupied some of the shelves. Logically, he knew the maze was pretty easy to figure out; it was a spiral, radiating out from the eye. But in Eric’s panicked, terrified, pained mind, all he knew was that he felt like he was going in circles, and it _terrified_ him, not knowing where the Author was.

“Ding dong, where is it you’ve gone to? Do you think you’ve won? Our game of hide and seek has just begun!”

Eric flinched at the Author’s voice, moving slowly, but quietly, trying to calm his rapid breathing so it didn’t echo. The Author was toying with him. He knew that. He _felt_ it, in the way he felt like a mouse trapped in a maze with a cat watching him struggle. He didn’t like it. He wanted to go back to bed, climb back into Illinois’ arms, and go to _sleep_. Like this was all just a bad dream.

Somehow, he reached the very corner of the library, and he swallowed, spinning around to head back into the maze.

And suddenly all he could see was gold as the Author pressed him into the corner.

Eric couldn’t even _scream_ as the Author lashed a hand out, slamming it over his mouth and crushing his jaw as he slammed him against the wall. There was a knife in his other hand that Eric was all too aware of as the Author lifted it up, the point resting just under his eye. The Author grinned, and it truly was _shark-like_ , just how King described it.

“Found you.” He crowded close to Eric, pinning him securely against the wall, and he trailed the knife across Eric’s cheekbone, still _far_ too close to his eye. Eric shook, terrified tears flowing down his face, and he squeezed his eyes shut. Immediately, there was a sharp pain along his cheek as the Author dug the knife in. “ _Open your eyes, kid_.” 

Eric obeyed, trying to stifle his sobs under the Author’s hand. More blood now painted his face, the Author having cut _deep_ , and it stung with the salt of his tears. The Author’s grin widened. “Good boy…there’s hope for you!” He laughed, his golden eyes and the white of his teeth the only things Eric could see in the pitch black of the library, practically glowing in the dark. “Oooh, I _know_ you’re going to be _fun_.” He leaned in closer. “The others are really protective of you, aren’t they,” he whispered. “The lovebirds, King, the Jims, that doctor, the _pathetic_ waste of power I apparently become, and all the others I don’t know…” His lips were practically flush against Eric’s ear. “What do you think they’ll do if I made you _mine?_ ”

Eric was hyperventilating as the Author talked, too afraid to make a sound, to try and struggle and break free. He couldn’t escape the library anyway. He didn’t want to know what the Author would do to him when he caught him again. And that knife was still too close to his eye…

“You’ve never seen me in _action_ , have you, kid?” The Author tilted his head curiously, grin too wide, too many teeth. “How about we head back to that desk that’s in the middle of this place? I’d _love_ to give you a show. But first –” He backed away from Eric, letting go of his jaw, letting him slump against the wall. He adjusted his grip on the knife. “Let’s make it _official_ , shall we?”

Before Eric could process what was happening, the Author was tossing him to the floor, and cutting away his pajama shirt with his knife, careful not to break Eric’s skin. Eric didn’t move, but the Author spoke anyway, resting the tip of the blade against Eric’s chest. “Don’t move, kid. Don’t make a fucking _sound._ Or I’ll make this hurt _so much more_.”

And with that, he began to carve in Eric’s chest and stomach, working diligently despite the blood that flowed thick and heavy in the wake of his knife. Eric _screamed_ , and _sobbed_ , but he didn’t try to get away, just let the Author torture him without a word or even slight _twitch_ of protest.

And when he was done, ‘THE AUTHOR’ was carved into Eric’s torso, deep enough to scar, stuck with him _forever_.

**Author's Note:**

> _eheheheheheheheheheheheheheheheheheheheheh_
> 
> Tumblr: doctordiscord123.tumblr.com


End file.
